Xela: An Introduction

A warm and grateful hello to my dear friends and family.

Each time I sit down to begin writing here, I can´t seem come up with what to write (strange, I know, given that I have been in a fascinating foreign country for going on six days now). These six days have had their ups and downs (but mostly ups)... a real Guatemalan futbol game (the home team, the Xelaju Super Chivos, tied the other team 0-0 but there was still no lack of celebratory fireworks), a treacherous hike up to the top of a mirador (lookout) to watch a volcano eruption, a wonderful host family, a great Spanish teacher...

Guatemalans loooove their fireworks, let me tell you. It´s not a rare occasion for me to be woken up at any given hour of the night or early morning to a stream of pop pop pops! And as I previously mentioned, the futbol game I went to on Saturday night was packed with bumbas (isn´t that a great name fire fireworks?!). Fireworks, allowed. Large drums, fire extinguishers (I won´t complain about that), trumpets, and a various assortment of other large unknown metal objects, allowed. Plastic water bottles, not allowed. My assumption is that it keeps the fans from throwing too many things at each other. We sat right next to this large group of teenagers, who were yelling an assortment of chants throughout the entire game, many of which included one specific hand gesture that I can´t imagine meant anything good, and the Spanish word puta (or punta--I am not entirely sure, but either way I do believe it is the equivalent of ¨bitch¨). Some of the girls I was sitting with joined in for the fun of it and got some good laughs from the Guatemalan people sitting around us.

Sunday morning I was picked up around the corner from my host family´s house at 4:30 in the morning to make the trek up Volcan de Santiaguito. I was with a group of three others plus a guide. I only happened upon this to begin with because on Friday I was behind this young Texan couple in line at a tour company and they needed more people in their group in order to be taken up the volcano. I stepped in and gladly came to their rescue; or rather, they came to my rescue as I was beginning to wonder what on earth I was going to do with my first weekend in Xela with no friends (not to solicit pity from anybody, of course). We arrived to the base of the trail a little after 5am, and began the journey up. Three hours of nothing but steep, uphill climbing. I honestly believe that I have not had to push myself so hard physically (and therefore mentally) in a long, long time. Well worth it, however, because of what we found at the top. A 360 degree view of the surrounding land, which included the city of Xela and a line of volcanoes reaching all the way to those near the city of Antigua, probably around a 3-4 hour bus ride from Xela. Oh, and let´s not forget the 9am eruption of the volcano right below us!!! This particular volcano erupts about every two hours... crazy! With the daylight we couldn´t see the lava, only the large plume of steam (and ash?), but apparently at night you can see the glow of hot lava coming from the crater. Incredible. On our way up, we encountered a group of Indigenous people coming down the mountain who, once per month, make the trek up to stay the night and carry out their rituals and sacrifices (I have no idea what those are). Then, awaiting our arrival at the top and providing us with a warm welcome was a herd of beautiful black and white cows. Even though it is not the coldest time of the year, apparently these cows climb to the top of this mountain for this season to ´stay warm´and then climb back down again afterwards. My group and I still can´t figure out how this possibly makes sense, since it gets much colder in the winter months!

The only reason I actually did anything fun over the weekend was because I all but invited myself along to both the futbol game and the hike. You see, as much as I like everything else about my school, I am the ONLY student right now! Actually, a retired woman from Washington DC showed up today, but she doesn´t come across as the type who would want to tag along with me for the things that I want to do; she seems to be making her trip a more luxurious one than I. Good for her; I only hope I can do the same during my own retirement. The majority of foreigners here in Xela establish their social networks via the school, since everybody is in the same situation and friendless upon arrival. Therefore, as you have probably just concluded on your own, it makes for a difficult time for me to find friends in this unfamiliar city full of people who speak an unfamiliar language and whose unfamiliar culture I am still trying to grasp. So, the only option I can come up with is to put myself out there to start a conversation and that´s what I did. Most of you know that´s not usually my style. I guess I found out, however, that it gets this poor lonely girl from the States invited to join in on the fun. May the adventure and personal growth continue.

I still haven´t figured out my host family, but I am getting closer. The mother and father, I understand. It´s the rest of the people who come and go who I can´t quite follow... a daughter who is also the mother of an adorable three year old girl but who seems to be doing the parenting thing entirely solo, an assortment of nieces and nephews who come and go (apparently their families live far away), others whom I assume are just friends over for a visit, and then there are an Indigenous man and woman who I believe work for the family. The showers are cold, the food is already getting repetitive. Lunch and dinner generally include rice with peas and carrots (a few pieces of onion and tomato if you´re lucky), a piece of chicken (the type where a whole chicken is probably cooked and your piece torn off, broken bones and all... yum), and over the chicken some type of beans with a bit of sauce in the bean concoction. That pretty much sums it up. Oh! How can I forget the tortillas?! The first time I ate one of these tortillas, a flash of hesitation whirled through my head because the color of these tortillas resemble the color of mold on bread. Then I remembered that not all corn is yellow. Good job, Stephanie. Breakfast is either eggs of some style (and I don´t mean fried, overeasy or scrambled) or Cornflakes. This morning was Cornflakes with bananas. And, guess what? Those of you who know me well might be pleasantly surprised when I disclose to you that I eat these Cornflakes with milk. Yes, real milk. (Those of you who don´t know this about me, with the exception of coffee drinks, I have not consumed a glass of milk or milk in my cereal for as long as I can remember). I hesitate to say this in front of all you milk-lovers, but it´s not that bad! I am already a little sick of the repetitiveness of my meals at home here, but I don´t feel that I have the right to complain. So, I will stop there.

I absolutely adore my Spanish teacher. He´s a 23 year old university student and is studying civil engineering. I enjoy him so much as a teacher because we talk about things like social and cultural issues, politics and just Guatemalan life in general. It is so fascinating to hear his perspective on things like the machismo culture here (men don´t live alone often until they have a wife to cook for them; until then they live with their mothers), the lack of values that are taught to children at home (those who are lucky enough to go to school--and therefore obviously only those in urban environments--learn such values as not to steal, in school) and of course, just how much the United States can impact countries like Guatemala when even just one thing starts to go awry. He makes me want to buy him a place ticket to any place of his choosing where he can use his engineering knowledge and actually make a livable salary. The other day he said he´d never be able to leave Guatemala because it costs too much money... money that a lot of people here don´t have.

The list goes on, but instead of long paragraphs here´s a small glimpse into what I am seeing and experiencing:

Noise. There is sooo much noise here, as I know some of you have at one point or another had to become accustomed to living in larger cities. Honking. Dogs barking. Fireworks. Cars. Motorbikes. Buses. Loud buses. Very loud buses. Yelling. Yelling things I don´t understand!

Dogs. What is it about places like this and their masses and masses of stray dogs? They´re EVERYWHERE!!! Despite the fact that they probably could take over Xela if they had the desire-not to mention the brain capacity--they tend to leave us humans alone and instead stick to their own kind. A huge thank you to the canine species in Xela.

Rain. Thursday, my first full day in Xela, it rained... and rained... and rained. Starting early in the afternoon, it rained well into the night. Here, the rain turns the uneven cobblestone streets into rivers. Aside from Thursday, it rained Friday afternoon right on schedule. Thankfully, Saturday and Sunday were without. So far today there have only been a few brief and light showers.

Racism. Although I should not be, I am surprised to find such intense segregation between the Indigenous people here and the Ladinos, or Mixtos (those who are not of indigenous origin). As my teacher explained today, Ladinos are the ones who become professionals and who start, own and operate businesses. The Indigenous people here are the vendors in the streets and in the markets--they sell shoes, cloth, produce, various types of food and drink--nothing of which they can make enough do anything with but hardly survive.

Pollution. No question about it. Xela is a polluted place. My throat is usually scratchy by every afternoon. Black clouds, and I mean black, come out of the cars and buses here. People litter. Dogs need a place to defecate.

Mountains. Xela is in the highlands, and therefore surrounded by green mountain slopes. It´s beautiful.

Poverty. Enough said, you can use your imaginations for now.

This is all I can muster up at the moment, more to come in the passing days, weeks and months, I assure you.

I wish you all well!